Chapter 4: Guarded Heart
948 Words
Bhola walked briskly across campus Monday morning, her brown leather satchel swinging against her hip with each step. The cool breeze hinted at the first signs of fall, tugging at the hem of her cardigan. She welcomed the chill—it helped her stay alert.
But today, alertness wasn't the problem.
Her thoughts were.
Joshua.
His name, his words, his presence—all lingered too long in her mind. It frustrated her.
She didn't want to be thinking about him. Didn't want to remember how gently he spoke during the group. How he didn't flinch at her honesty. How he stood beside her—not in pursuit, but in posture. Respectful. Present. Different.
And that's what scared her.
Because Bhola had made a promise to herself a long time ago.
The Vow She Made after Elijah.
Elijah, with the beautiful worship leader voice, the scripture-quoting tongue, and the hands that moved faster than his integrity.
He'd told her he was saving himself. He said he respected her boundaries.
He lied.
He manipulated her with spiritual talk, made her feel guilty for resisting his advances.
He blurred lines, pushed past no's, and wrapped his guilt in grace-sounding words.
She remembered sitting in the chapel bathroom afterwards, numb, tears mixing with shame, whispering the same phrase over and over: "Never again. Never again. Never again."
That was two years ago.
Since then, she'd rebuilt her faith—but with tall fences around her heart.
A Knock on the Wall
"Earth to Bhola?"
Bhola blinked and looked up. Her professor, Dr. Langston, had paused mid-lecture, smiling at her gently.
"Oh—I'm sorry," she said, heat rising to her cheeks.
"You were miles away," he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Everything okay?"
She nodded quickly. "Yes, just... distracted."
As the class continued, she forced herself to focus, jotting down notes on trauma theory and spiritual resilience—topics she knew too well from both textbooks and personal experience.
Still, Joshua's voice from Friday night circled in her head:
"Purity isn't about pretending to be spotless. It's about submission."
She had never heard it put that way.
After class, Bhola headed to the library. She took the long route across the quad to avoid the crowd outside the coffee shop.
But God had other plans.
Joshua was sitting on a bench under one of the large oak trees, notebook in hand, Bible open on his lap. He looked up just as she passed.
Their eyes met.
Bhola hesitated.
Joshua offered a small wave, not rising to meet her, just acknowledging her presence.
She could've kept walking.
But instead, she surprised herself.
"Hey," she said softly.
He closed his notebook. "Hey, Bhola."
"Studying theology out here?"
He smiled. "Trying to soak up the Word and the sun."
She laughed before she could stop herself. It startled her.
Joshua looked up at her, a gentle light in his eyes. "You okay?"
She hesitated, then shrugged. "Working on it."
"Me too."
There was a long pause.
"I've been thinking about what you said," she admitted.
"About what?"
"In group. About submission. About trust."
Joshua nodded. "That's something God's been stretching in me lately."
"Same," she said quietly. "But... submission scares me. Feels like giving people a key to break you again."
Joshua closed his Bible slowly, his voice low. "I used to think that too. But I realised—if I'm submitting to God first, He holds the key. People don't get to break me unless I let them."
Bhola swallowed hard. The truth in that hit deep.
Joshua continued, "God isn't asking you to trust people blindly. Just to trust Him to guard your heart better than you can."
She nodded slowly.
Joshua didn't press.
"I'm heading to the chapel if you ever want to come," he said, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "No pressure."
Bhola blinked.
"You pray there often?"
"Daily," he said. "It's where I hear God best."
She watched him walk away. This time, she didn't scoff. She didn't roll her eyes.
She just stood there.
Still.
Conflicted.
Hopeful.
Later that evening, Bhola sat with Janelle in their dorm suite. Worship music played softly in the background while Bhola flipped through her journal.
Janelle looked over from her desk. "You're quiet."
"Been thinking."
Janelle smirked. "Uh-oh."
Bhola exhaled. "He's not like the others."
"Joshua?"
She nodded.
"But I'm still scared," Bhola admitted. "What if I let my guard down, and he turns out to be just another guy wearing a cross?"
"Then God will catch you," Janelle said simply.
Bhola looked at her.
"I know you're scared. But don't punish a good man for what a bad one did. Don't shut the door just because the last one slammed it."
Joshua's Side of the Night~~~
Joshua sat alone in the chapel, the soft hum of piano keys echoing faintly in the background as a music major practised on stage. The room was dimly lit by candlelight and string lights, creating a quiet sanctuary.
He opened his prayer journal and wrote:
" Lord, help me stay in position—not chasing her, not proving myself. Just reflecting on you. If you open the door, I'll walk in. But if not, I'll be faithful still."
Bhola lay in bed later that night, curled under her fluffy blanket, the moonlight casting pale silver streaks across the room.
She whispered a prayer she hadn't dared pray in years:
"Lord... if Joshua is from you... I need you to show me. Because I can't afford another wound. I want to trust again. But I need you to teach me how."
She wiped a tear that slid onto her pillow.
Then closed her eyes.
- Writer
